Page 4 of The Spy Who Ghosted Me

Mia and I walked to the gate and scanned our boarding passes. My plan was to get seated quickly and keep my head down until everyone was on board. I never wanted to see Cash Denton again, no matter how appealing he was. His actions were ugly, as Nana would say, and that made him unattractive. But not really—he was way too pretty to be ugly. Don’t even get me going on how amazing he smelled, like a magical potion made of spiced vanilla.

Once onboard, Mia and I realized we weren’t sitting together. She was in a row in front of me on the opposite side of the plane. The airline had assigned both of us window seats, so our plan was to ask if one of our seatmates would switch spots. Even though we basically spent every day of our lives by each other’s sides, we still wanted to sit together. Knowing your seatmate always makes a flight more enjoyable. Besides, I needed some emotional support—I’d thought I was leaving my ghost behind at the airport. I needed thousands of miles between Cash and me, not to be stuck in a flying tube with him. The idea of being in the same state was something I didn’t even want to consider.

The more I thought of my behavior in the days and weeks after he ghosted me, the more squeamish and dumb I felt. Cash’s presence today was like a big glaring mirror in my face, showing me I’d been an idiot. It was uncomfortable.

I stowed my carry-on in the overhead bin and took my seat, breathing in and out deeply, trying to calm my nerves while I stared out the window into the still-dark morning. Baggage handlers were busy loading luggage onto the plane, and airport workers zoomed around in golf carts with flashing lights. Normally, I would check my phone and track my GPS tags to make sure my luggage made it on the plane, but I was in too much of a daze. I kept telling myself that all I had to do was get through the next three or four hours of this flight and then I would be done with Cash Denton, once and for all.

I stared aimlessly out the window, listening to the sounds of fellow passengers walking past while the flight attendants welcomed each person and repeated instructions on how to stow luggage in the overhead bins—until a sexy gravelly voice, that had once spoken the sweetest and most seductive things into my ear, punctuated the noise.

“Another fortunate coincidence,” Cash said.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no. What was up with this airline? Were they passing out upgrades like candy today? Or was Cash just too cool to stand in line, indifferent to his expensive seat? No matter the reason for this unfortunate turn of events, I was reluctant to turn my head for fear of my worst nightmare, aside from being attacked by a horde of rabid squirrels, coming true. Attempting to make it go away, I pressed my eyes shut. Cash had disappeared once before. It could happen again, right?

No such luck. I got a whiff of spiced vanilla and felt the warmth of a body next to mine. I knew that heat signature very well.

“Sabrina,” Cash whispered, close enough that I felt his breath flutter across my cheek. My body was like, Ooh, we missed that, and betrayed me by erupting into thousands of goose bumps. Where was the loyalty? It had to be some of the mixed cocktails he’d left in my veins.

“I know you must hate me, and you have every right to, but I would like the chance to explain what happened in France, if you will allow me.”

I hated him, all right. He didn’t have to explain anything—it was obvious what had happened. He’d ghosted me, and I had to come to terms with that. Except, I had to know one thing for the sake of my conscience. It was a thought that had plagued me ever since I’d ruled out a tragic accident. I turned, glaring at him before saying as quietly as possible, “Were you married?” It was a reasonable assumption, given his vanishing act and the fact he’d never let me take his picture.

His brows shot up. “No. Never.”

I was at least thankful for that, assuming he was telling the truth. I hoped he was. The thought I might have been the other woman made me feel just plain icky. Never would I do that to another human. “That’s all I need to know. Now, will you please switch seats with my cousin?” I pointed to her sitting diagonally across from us.

Mia was already standing, her eyes on the scene, not sure what she should do.

“No can do,” Cash stated. “I always have to have an aisle seat.”

Not wanting to cause a stir, I pulled out my phone and texted Mia.

Me: The jerk won’t switch seats. Can you please ask your seatmate?

I saw Mia look at her phone, read the text, and nod at me. I then watched her try to convince the man next to her, who looked like he could be a secret service agent in his dark suit and tie, tell her practically the same thing Cash had told me: he needed an aisle seat. Ugh, these arrogant men. It’s not like we were back in coach, where I could understand not wanting to be cramped and wishing to sit on the aisle. First-class window seats were quite roomy, and you could easily slip by your seatmate if you needed to use the restroom.

Mia mouthed, Sorry.

I wasn’t giving up. Normally I did my best to never make a fuss, but if ever there was a time to fuss, this was it.

A flight attendant appeared, asking if we wanted anything to drink. It always seemed odd to me that they gave that privilege to first-class passengers, allowing them to order drinks even before everyone had taken their seats, but today I was thankful for it. Before Cash could say anything, I blurted, “Um ... I received this upgrade for free and I feel bad about it. I wonder if there is anyone on this flight who could use the extra room more than me. Maybe a pregnant mom or someone with a broken leg?” Anyone but me.

The older, maternal-looking flight attendant with graying, permed hair tilted her head at me, looking like she was both impressed and wondering if I’d lost my mind. “That’s very kind of you, but it’s best if everyone stays in their assigned seats for security reasons.”

What about the security of my emotional well-being? “Yes, of course. That makes sense.”

The flight attendant smiled a placating smile. “Now, can I get you anything to drink?”

I shook my head and turned back to stare out the window, wishing to be anywhere but where I was.

Cash declined a drink as well.

He gently touched my bare shoulder, his fingertips igniting a merengue party in my stomach. “Sabrina, please let me explain what happened in France.”

“I know what happened.” I shook off his touch and spoke into the window. “You ghosted me. The thing about ghosts is, they are supposed to stay invisible. That’s the least you can do for me.”

To my relief, he didn’t reply. I leaned my head against the window and sighed. It was going to be a very long four hours.

Scratch that optimistic assessment.

---